It started innocently enough. My dad called — his lawnmower wouldn't start, and he needed help. Classic Saturday project. Should take ten minutes. Swap the spark plug, pull the cord, done. Father-son heroes.
I looked up the part number online, found it listed at a store about 30 minutes away, and drove over. Walked the whole aisle. Found the right section. Wrong size. "Sorry sir, we're out of stock on that one."
"NO PROBLEM. I'LL TRY THE NEXT ONE."
Store #2. Different chain, same story. The guy at the counter actually laughed a little when I described what I needed. I did not laugh. Store #3 was somehow worse — they had the display model on the shelf but the bin underneath was completely empty. I stood there staring at it for longer than I'd like to admit.
At this point the lawn is still un-mowed, my dad is sitting on the porch drinking lemonade like a man without a care in the world, and I've been driving around suburbia for an hour and forty-five minutes chasing a $5 part.
I finally found the spark plug — at a small hardware shop literally 5 minutes from my dad's house. The same shop I drove past on my way to Store #1. It was in stock the whole time.
A 10-minute job took two hours. Not because the part was hard to find. Because there was no way to know who actually had it before I left the driveway.
10:04 AM — The Call
Dad: "Hey, can you help me with the lawnmower?" Sure. Easy fix. Be there in 20.
10:41 AM — Store #1, 30 min away
Out of stock. "We might have some at the other location." Reader, they did not.
11:18 AM — Store #2
Also out of stock. Employee pointed vaguely at the ceiling. Still unclear why.
11:52 AM — Store #3
Display model only. No inventory. Started questioning all my choices in life.
12:09 PM — The Shop 5 Min From Dad's House
In stock. $4.99. Had been there the entire time.
12:22 PM — Mower Fixed
Ten-minute job. Two-hour odyssey. Dad offers lemonade. I accept. We don't talk about it.
